Notorious socialite in over her head?

Olivia Stanton’s name has been synonymous with scandal—every bad choice scrutinized in the headlines—but she’s finally getting herself together. That is, until her twin sister disappears right before her wedding and Olivia’s needed to stand in—as the bride!

Alexander King’s ruthless determination for perfection is world renowned and he’ll make Olivia pay for her latest stunt—by enforcing their marriage vows! He expects her to be the model wife in public. And in private? With her feisty attitude and his strong will, it won’t be long before the tension between them reaches boiling point!

Liv gripped the counter behind her. “I can’t go anywhere with you. We hate each other, remember?”

Alexander laughed. The rippling sound of it surrounded her in overwhelming waves.

“Yes, but not as much as I hate being front-page fodder for trashy tabloids.”

“This isn’t funny.” She moved away from the intoxicating scent of the dratted man. “I have to do a pitch for our agency in two weeks. I can’t miss it.”

“Still playing at being the hardworking career woman? Give it up, Olivia. You don’t have it in you.”

She pushed out the fury scratching at her throat and steadied herself. “It’s your honeymoon, Alexander. No one will know you’re by yourself unless you advertise it.”

His fingers gripped her arm and turned her around. His gaze was frantic in its search of hers. “You truly live in your own world, don’t you?” Bitterness laced his every word. “The press hounds me wherever I go, whatever I do, and I refuse to throw even a morsel of scandal their way. If you’re not going to tell me the truth, you’re damn well going to stick with me until Kim’s back.”

THE SENSATIONAL STANTON SISTERS

Notoriety has a new name!

The exploits of the famous— or should that be infamous—Stanton Sisters are guaranteed to sell newspapers the world over.

While they are physically identical, the sisters are as different as night and day.

Olivia Stanton can create scandal from thin air, but this bad girl is desperate to be oh-so-good. Until she comes face to face with the one man whose dark looks are a temptation too far!

Kimberly Stanton is a stunning socialite with a brilliant head for business. But when her dirty little secret comes back to haunt her Kim’s entire life is turned upside down!

One thing’s for sure—both deserve the middle name ‘trouble’ with a capital T!

And what of the men sent to tame them?

We wish them luck!

Read Tara Pammi’s stunning debut in:

A HINT OF SCANDAL October 2013

Kimberly’s story A TOUCH OF TEMPTATION is available November 2013

A Hint of Scandal

Tara Pammi

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TARA PAMMI can’t remember a moment when she wasn’t lost in a book—especially a Mills & Boon® romance, which provided so much more excitement to a teenager than a mathematics textbook. It was only years later, while struggling with her two-hundred-page thesis in a basement lab, that Tara realised what she really wanted to do: write a romance novel. She already had the requirements—a wild imagination and a love for the written word.

Tara lives in Colorado with the most co-operative man on the planet and two daughters. Her husband and daughters are the only things that stand between Tara and a full-blown hermit life with only books for company.

Tara would love to hear from readers. She can be reached at tara.pammi@gmail.com or her website www.tarapammi.com

This is Tara’s stunning debut, we hope you love it as much as we do!

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my real-life hero, my husband Raghu, for being my biggest supporter, my strength, and the wind beneath my writing wings.

For the Minxes of Romance— for being the most generous and awesome online family I could ever ask for.

For my editor Pippa, for her incredible patience and invaluable advice— this wouldn’t have been possible without you.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

“KIMBERLY, DO YOU take this man, Alexander King, to be your lawfully wedded husband, until death do you part?”

Nooooo.

Olivia Stanton looked around in alarm. Had she said it aloud? Her fingers slipped on the satin ribbon that held the elaborate orchid and white rose bouquet in her hand. Her heart pounded. The calm, bespectacled priest looked back at her patiently. She released the breath she’d been holding and pulled another one in. The scent of the flowers in her hand enveloped her, the sweet smell intensifying her panic.

Seconds ticked by. The silent anticipation of the guests behind was her a tidal wave threatening to pull her under.

Her gaze collided with Alexander King’s: blue, cool and unflappable. His composure in the face of her anxiety grated on her already-taut nerves. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her heart roared in her ears, a thundering beat in contrast to the silence enclosing them.

She couldn’t do this. Yes, they had done it before, Kim and she—pretended to be each other. Usually Kim pretended to be Liv, to save her from getting into trouble with their father, with the school authorities. So she owed it to Kim. Her successful, accomplished twin had saved her ass more times than Liv could count.

But to marry Alexander King in her place... An extreme step even for her.

“I can’t marry him today. I’ll be back soon.”

Her twin’s words rang in her ears. If Kim, who was ever dependable and unwavering, had to leave at the last minute, in a panic, surely it had to be something serious. Wouldn’t Alexander understand if she pulled him aside and explained everything?

“Don’t tell Alex. He’ll be disappointed in me. He despises even a hint of scandal.”

What kind of a man was her twin involved with if she couldn’t confide in him over her doubts on the most important day of their lives?

A hand at her elbow, the touch infinitely gentle, pulled her back into the waking nightmare. She tilted her head. Alexander’s blue gaze trapped hers, shooting questions she wasn’t equipped to answer. Yet his gaze was gentle. He must care for her sister, for she had never spied a trace of tenderness in him before. Because even in the very little time she had spent with her sister’s successful, intensely private fiancé, Olivia had realized that Alexander King hated her guts.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

Kim’s desperate plea pumped blood back into her numb brain. Ungluing her tongue from the roof of her mouth, Olivia took a deep breath and uttered the scariest words of her life. “I do.”

His face settling into benevolent lines, the priest relaxed. “I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The bottom dropped out from under her. Alexander’s hands on her bare shoulders sent sparks of raw sensation zinging through her. He pulled her closer as she fought the awareness spreading to every inch of her. The scent of his soap and skin seeped into the air she breathed. The pad of his thumb felt rough against the sensitive skin of her cheek.

He was going to kiss her. Olivia couldn’t move. The truth dawning on her was immobilizing her thought processes. Only one thing flared inside her mind like a gaudy neon sign. She wanted nothing more than to sink into his kiss.

He bent his mouth toward her and her heart pumped harder and faster. His breath mingled with hers and unbearable longing consumed her. It was too much to fight. More than she could resist.

No.

Mere seconds before his mouth touched her lips she turned her head, anchoring her hands on his chest. His mouth landed at the corner of hers, his lips soft and firm at the same time.

Heat blasted through her everywhere, inside and out. From where his mouth touched her. From his all-too-possessive hands on her hips. And an overpowering need that she couldn’t misinterpret. What was the matter with her?

His blue gaze seared hers, curiosity and awareness shooting out at her from its bright depths. His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her to him. The solid wall of his body was a taste of heaven against her curves. Not succumbing to the temptation of his kiss was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

She fought the groan rising through her. This was all she needed. A pithy curse fell from her lips. His head tilted toward her as if he had heard it. Her chest constricted with fear, the corset of the intricate designer dress cutting off her breath.

Alexander King was nothing if not astute and ruthless. How long before he discovered her deception?

* * *

Alexander King studied his wife’s face, alarm bells ringing inside his head. The rapid beat of the pulse at her neck, the restless way she shied away from making eye contact with anyone, the way she had sidled away from his kiss. Something wasn’t right.

As though aware of his continued scrutiny, her brown gaze flew to his and then moved away. Something was different about her.

He had felt it the moment she had come to a halt next to him. Instead of meeting his eyes, even then she had seemed cagey. It wasn’t just that the poised composure and the quiet, unassuming grace that were so much a part of her were missing. There was an edge to her every movement, a defiant tilt to her chin. Even now she fidgeted with the diamond choker at her throat, her teeth clamped on her lower lip. As though the necklace was strangling her.

Then there was the way she looked. Not that he hadn’t expected Kim to look beautiful. Just that he hadn’t expected her to look so...erotic in her wedding dress. What he would have expected to be understated elegance instead looked earthily sexy, right down to the bloodred lipstick—something he had never seen her wear before.

The sight of her white teeth tugging at the luscious curve of her mouth sent a stab of fierce lust coursing through him. He had been attracted to her before, of course. But it had been nothing like the blaze of need sweeping through him, tightening his lower body.

He wanted to bury his mouth in the crook of her neck, where her pulse hammered. The ivory-colored dress cupped her breasts like a lover every time she drew breath, daring him to replace its hold with his hands. A tiny birthmark on the slope of her breast cried out for his touch.

He stole a hand around her waist and pulled her to the side, away from his cheering friends. She instantly stiffened against him like a coiled spring. Tense, unyielding. He bent his head, a smile in place. Something earthy and floral assaulted his nostrils. He closed his eyes and fought for control over his libido. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to breathe in more of her delicious scent.

He frowned, trying to think clearly through the lust clouding him. What was so different today from the past six months? He’d had no problem taking it slow, as she had requested, whereas today he couldn’t wait to get her into bed.

“Is everything okay, Kim?”

Looking somewhere near his shoulder, she smiled. The false brightness of her smile notched up his doubts a little more.

“Yes, thank you, Alexander.” With a subtle movement, she slipped out of the crook of his arm. “I think the stress of the past few weeks has caught up with me.”

A vague suspicion slithered in his gut. Something stirred just under the surface but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “Alexander?”

Color blasted into her cheeks and for the second time in the past hour he heard a curse fall from her lips. A minute’s regret slashed through him. There were blue shadows under her eyes. Her skin was drawn too tight over her features.

He prided himself on not missing the tiniest detail. Yet he had completely overlooked that she was tired. After all, she had singlehandedly planned the wedding, without a trace of anxiety and with minimum input from him.

Not only was she successful and sophisticated, she had an unblemished reputation, the respectability he needed in a wife and—the best part—she was the perfect role model for his sister. The increasing restlessness and unhappiness he had spied in Emily, the rumors floating around about his mother, meant he’d needed a wife and soon. Kim was the perfect solution.

Her hands went to her forehead, her long fingers rubbing at her temples. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired.”

“You organized everything brilliantly, Kim. Everything went smoothly, without a ripple.” He ran his finger over the inside of her wrist. “Perfect. Just like you.”

Her chocolate-brown eyes widened and her luscious red mouth pinched into a thin line. “Yeah, it looks beautiful.” She glanced around them once again, disbelief flickering in her face. “Thanks, I mean.”

As the photographer arranged the wedding party around the entrance the missing piece clicked in his head. He looked around, searching for the pale pink outfits that indicated the bridesmaids. Of course. Olivia was missing. He should have known the reason Kim was upset. Everything else she had planned had gone so perfectly.

“Where’s Olivia?”

“She...had to leave.” Kim shrugged, her stiff shoulders betraying her. “Something urgent came up.”

Irritation flickered through him. Olivia was nothing if not predictable when it came to being selfish and irresponsible. Yet Kim seemed surprised at every turn by her reckless twin. “I should have known it would be something to do with her. What has she done now?”

Her chin tilted up, her mouth narrowing into a stubborn line. Liquid fire flashed in her chocolate gaze, her withdrawal immediate. “Olivia didn’t do anything.”

The one point of contention between Kim and him. Her attachment to her selfish, troublemaking twin was beyond his understanding. He smoothed out the ire rising through him. “She always hurts you, Kim. Isn’t it time to cut her out of your life like your father did?”

Olivia stared at him, aghast, her palms fisting at her sides. She couldn’t believe the arrogance of the man. He was encouraging her sister to cut her off—the one person who cared about her. Her throat burned with anger. Anger that she couldn’t let out. What had Kim seen in this man? She glared at him. “She’s my sister. I won’t cut off my family as ruthlessly as you have just because they’re not perfect.”

His shoulders tightened under the handmade Italian tuxedo. His jaw tensed into a tight line. The forcefield of his anger encompassed her, drowning out the sounds around them.

Olivia braced herself, ready for his outrage to burst and choke her. After all, she had faced it countless times with her father. She had always frozen when the hurricane of her father’s anger had burst. It was Kim who’d been the wall of steel that had saved her. Shame coursed through her. And here she was, mouthing off again and ruining Kim’s chance with Alexander.

But the outburst she had expected didn’t come. Instead, he smiled, his anger obviously under control. The lethal smile wrapped itself around her senses, almost successful in making her forget what had made her so mad to begin with.

“I provoked you,” he said with a crease in his brow, as if he was contemplating her.

His asinine control grated on her nerves. She would have liked to see him blow his top. Then she would have had a measure of him. Instead, he had turned the tables on her, making her feel she should apologize instead. She did it, anyway. For Kim, she reminded herself for the nth time. “I’m sorry,” she said, uncaring that she didn’t sound sorry in the least.

The click of a camera brought her head up just as Alexander’s arms enfolded her. She took a quick peek at the silver Rolex on his strong wrist. The metal shone on his brown skin, a contrast to the crystal blue of his eyes. He was an interesting study in genetics, with his Nordic father and Italian mother. If only it was her interest in genetics that had her heart drumming like a heavy metal rock band.

Only two hours had passed since Kim had left and this day already felt too long. She held herself rigid in his arms, her neck and shoulders aching at the pressure to stay still and not lean back into his corded strength.

His hands settled on the curve of her hips. Her cheek rubbed against his rougher one. Her breasts felt heavy, tight, and a throbbing in her lower belly shot its way between her legs. Arousal. Damn, the man was to be her sister’s husband. Eventually. She closed her eyes and thought of Kim—the happiness in her face at their engagement, the sparkle in her tone whenever she had spoken of Alexander. It helped dampen the rush of sensation settling over her. Even if only a little.

She tilted her head to the side, ready to beg him to let her go. Instead, their eyes locked and she found herself caught.

“Relax, Kim. Remember this is supposed to be the biggest day of your life.”

* * *

Olivia gripped the marble countertop in the exquisite bath in Kim’s suite, everything within her rebelling at the idea of walking back into the banquet hall. It was a temporary respite before the reception began and she never wanted it to end.

To hell with the reception and the guests.

The expansive bathroom, with its perfectly placed sconces and chandeliers, the cool Turkish limestone tiles, was more than welcoming. She played with the idea of hiding out right there.

But hiding here would mean drawing Alexander’s attention to her.

Her gut flipped at the thought.

She sprinkled cold water on her wrists and face, careful not to spoil her makeup. She wanted to scrub the whole lot off. But Kim always looked perfect and she wasn’t going to quicken Alexander’s race to the truth that the wrong twin—the imperfect one—had stood next to him and uttered vows. At least Kim had promised to be back by nightfall.

She stared into the gold-edged mirror, still unable to believe how different, how polished she looked. Her wild mass of golden-brown curls had been ironed into submission and set into a stylish chignon at the back of her neck. Her neck shone with an elegant diamond choker set in white gold—which she knew was a wedding gift from Alexander Perfect King—instead of her mother’s heart-shaped locket on a black string, and her feet ached from the four-inch-heeled Christian Louboutin sandals that had already caused untold damage to her back. She scrunched her nose at Kim’s makeup bag, where the tube of pink gloss was winking at her. Olivia Stanton in shiny pink lip-gloss was never going to happen. She could only go so far, even for her twin.

She reapplied her dark red lipstick. Battle-ready.

She took a deep breath, stepped out of the luxurious suite and walked toward the huge banquet hall. Almost at the entrance, she let her gaze fell on a small veranda to her right, and before she knew it she was looking at miles of gorgeous sand, her feet itching to feel the grainy texture.

With a sigh, she took an about-turn, determined to go for a swim by the end of the day. What was the fun in getting fake married on a Caribbean island if you didn’t even dip your toes in the ocean?

She came to a standstill at the entrance to the hall, stunned by the sight. A lump lodged in her throat at the elegant beauty of the hall. Kim had prepared all this for her beautiful wedding and wasn’t even here to enjoy it. A hundred little questions pecked inside her head. By the end of this charade she was going to ensure one thing. She’d find out what was really going on with Kim.

Round tables covered with the sheerest white lace filled the decadent marble-floored hall, with a single pink orchid in a crystal vase gracing the center of each table. Lanterns designed to look like tiny fireflies hung from the roof, throwing light onto the vases, and the crystal shimmered in thousands of directions.

It all looked gloriously romantic even to someone like her, who didn’t go for the elaborate traditional wedding, the designer gown and the whole status thing that went with the society that Kim and Alexander inhabited.

She couldn’t stop her thoughts from flitting inward. Her chest felt tight, as if a fist had tightened over her heart. One more thing Kim had that she herself never would. A man who loved her. A man who...

Enough.

She wasn’t going to spend another minute thinking about things that could never be. She ran a hand over her stomach and smoothed the silk, feeling as though the hole she kept carefully covered was exposed. She headed straight to the open bar, uncaring of the curious glances thrown her way. Thankfully, the bar itself was empty. She ordered a scotch, her back to everyone. When the drink came she drank it in one swig, needing the fiery liquid to wash away the maudlin nonsense in her head.

Her skin prickled with awareness, every inch of her hypersensitive to the arrival of the man behind her.

“Here’s where you’re hiding.”

Without turning around she silently slid the tumbler back toward the bartender. Kim couldn’t stomach alcohol—much less scotch—a fact she was sure Alexander knew. Schooling her face into a pleasant expression, she turned around. The sight of him dealt her a fiercer kick than the scotch. “More like recuperating,” she replied, placing her hand in his outstretched one.

He tugged her close, his gaze devouring her. A frown creased his forehead. “Did you just have a drink?”

Managing to hold on to another curse by biting the inside of her cheek, Olivia shook her head.

His disbelief hung like a curtain between them. Instantly she tried to remedy her mistake. “I actually took some aspirin for my headache. It just seems to be getting worse.” At least that wasn’t a lie. Her head was beginning to throb as though she had spent all night at a Metallica concert. In the front row.

His brow cleared and his gaze shone with sympathy. “At least no one will find it strange if we escape the reception quickly. After all, it’s our wedding night.”

Her gaze flew to his as he ran a long, dark finger over the sensitized flesh at her neck, tracing the lacy neckline of her dress. Her soft gasp got lost between them as he bent toward her ear.

“I can’t wait to rip that dress off you.”

A shiver traveled up her spine, sparking desire in every inch of her. Locking arms with him, she tucked her head down, fighting for air. His muscled body only heightened her awareness of him. Every second that passed was twisting the hard knot in her stomach tighter. Where the hell was Kim? She didn’t want to be here for another minute, not with the way her body was reacting to his mere presence.

Not when it was another woman’s man. Dear God, he belonged to her twin—the one person who had stood by her no matter what.

Somehow Olivia held on to a semblance of composure as she smiled and talked to the guests, nodding enthusiastically as Kim and Alexander’s friends raved on and on and about how perfect they were for each other, pretending to know them. If they thought it was strange that the always intelligent and articulate Kim was mostly silent, they could put it down to the excitement of being a new bride.

She had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop thrusting her tongue out as her father praised Kim’s success to anyone who would hear... If only he knew...

She had no idea how she lived through the torturous dance with Alexander. Each sinuous, slow movement threw her against his muscled strength, with the pulsating energy between them winding her up, the scent of him seeping into her every pore. Her muscles groaned at her stiff posture by the time the dance came to an end. Only the enticing prospect of sinking into the claw-foot bathtub with numerous silver faucets she had spied back in Kim’s suite kept her standing.

Just as she released a breath of relief and untangled herself from Alexander the front man of the lively native band announced the bride’s dance with her father.

No, no, no.

Olivia froze midway on the polished lacquer floor, feeling the color leach out of her face. Fear gripped her insides in an unforgiving knot, and the corseted bodice of her gown was crushing her lungs as her father walked toward her, a genial smile on his handsome face, the very image of a loving father, his stride purposeful as ever.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t dance with him—not without the whole pretense blowing up in her face. She shivered, sliding into the skin of that clumsy fifteen-year-old forced to dance with her father on her birthday. Stand up tall and look me in the eye. She could still hear the caustic hiss of his disapproval when she had accidentally trod on his toe, could still feel the painful, cutting press of his fingers on the skin of her shoulders, eroding another piece of her.

The more he criticized, the more she had faltered. He would have gone on forever except Kim had intervened, claiming her turn, and proceeded to pacify him with her perfection. Always. Kim had done it to divert their father’s attention from her. Liv knew that. But in the end her twin’s perfection had only showcased Olivia’s failure even more.

The memory coursed through her like acid, eating away at the armor she had grown, exposing wounds that she had thought covered, if not healed. She gasped for breath when a guest stopped her father. She hadn’t talked to him in six years and she couldn’t now. He would know in a nanosecond that she wasn’t Kim. And he wouldn’t even go along with it until she could explain. No, he would bring holy hell down upon her right there, until the whole world gleefully concluded that Olivia Stanton had once again screwed up—and this time her own sister’s life.

Pain sliced through her, robbing her of breath. The very intensity of it was still so raw. She wanted to be able to look him in the eye, not to flinch when she saw the corroding disappointment in his gaze. But she couldn’t, because nothing had changed. She just wasn’t good enough—not now, not ever. Not even to be a stand-in for her perfect sister.

She rubbed her forehead with trembling hands and turned toward the exit, her legs rubbery. “My head feels awful. Please apologize to my father,” she threw at Alexander.

She could feel his razor-sharp gaze drill into her back until she stepped out of the banquet hall. But she couldn’t look back. Right now, all she needed was to escape.

* * *

Picking up a champagne flute from a passing waiter, Alexander stilled and stared at Kim’s retreating form. She looked pale and intensely troubled, her hurried gait anything but graceful. And even as he watched she tottered on those heels. The doubts that had been niggling at him all evening crystallized into irrefutable truth, shock stunting his movements.

The woman running away as though the devil was on her heels was Olivia Stanton, the embodiment of everything he despised in a woman—selfish, impulsive and scandalous—who could wreck everything: his reputation, his sister’s care. With one reckless word or action.

Kim would have never run at the sight of her father. No, it was Olivia who couldn’t run fast enough. After all, the rift between Jeremiah Stanton and his younger daughter was continuing fodder for the tabloids, among other things.

Fury washed up through him in tidal waves, an incessant drumbeat drowning out the innocent chatter around him. Why had they switched? When had they switched?

The answer came to him with crushing clarity. He had slipped the wedding ring onto Olivia’s finger, his gaze snagging on her lips, fascinated by the blood-red lipstick, wondering how he had missed this side of a woman he had known for six months.

Everything he had worked for his entire life now rested in the hands of a good-for-nothing party girl who didn’t know the meaning of responsibility.

The crack of the champagne flute in his hand pulled him out of the red mist. Ignoring Jeremiah’s concern, he took a turn toward the exit.

He made his way to the suite that Kim had occupied since her arrival at his mansion a week ago, his steps unhurried in contrast to the blistering anger coursing through him.

Olivia was going to rue the day her self-centered, worthless existence had entered his life.

CHAPTER TWO

HAVING NOT FOUND her in the suite, he’d looked out at the beach view. Something white and gossamer shimmered in the moonlight, contrasting against the dark backdrop of the ocean.

His heart racing, Alexander quickened his steps over the landscaped wooden floor. The minuscule light thrown by the artistically placed lanterns along the gravel path did nothing to make his mounting fury abate. Disbelief poured through him, stalling his usually quick thought processes. He hurried past the artificial landscape, reaching the untouched strip of beach behind the mansion that was his private haven.

He came to a standstill, his heart pounding. Used to the pitch-dark of the night, he turned his head in time to see a flash of alabaster skin, a pale shoulder above the powerful waves. She was about half a mile ahead, and even in the moonlight he could see that she was struggling, her strokes not very elegant or even strong.

The wedding dress and the silver sandals lay in a pile on the sand. The rip in the lacy neckline was visible even in the limited light, a testament to the rush she had been in. The custom-made diamond necklace, his wedding gift to Kim, glittered on top of the lace.

He glanced around the beach he knew like the back of his hand. Miles of sand and ocean stretched on either side. There would be no one around except his security men at the far end of the estate. No guest was allowed to venture into this private strip. She could drown and no one would know.

His hands fisted at his sides. Olivia Stanton gave new meaning to recklessness. Undoubtedly Kim was somewhere cleaning up her mess while Olivia lazed around in the aftermath of her upheaval. Only she had messed with the wrong man this time. Someone should have taught the selfish woman a lesson a long time ago.

Alex settled down on a lounger, his anger under control and something more insidious crawling into its place. Just how far was the wild Olivia willing to take her pretense?

* * *

Olivia sucked in a greedy breath as another wave sluiced over her, pushing her back a little more. She wanted to linger in the water, but her shoulders and arms were beginning to hurt. She had never been the greatest swimmer, but the cold water had pierced through the bubble of anguish that had swathed her, choked her. The dark silence of the moonlit night had been a diversion—at least for a few minutes.

She grunted and pushed through the water at a pace that had her arms feeling like lead weights, her thighs groaning at the exertion. She was always going to be a coward when it came to her father, never daring to stand up to him. She would always run instead.

She reached the sand with a guttural groan, her limbs feeling like rubber. She lay facedown, her lungs a deadweight in her chest. Sand stuck to her wet skin and hair, chafing at her. She had narrowly missed her father’s wrath but she still had Alexander to deal with. If Kim didn’t return soon.

Mere seconds after the thought, the hair on her nape stood up, her skin prickling with a panic she couldn’t shake off.

“Are you naked?”

The question startled her, laced with a huskiness that gave her goose bumps. She tilted her head up in the direction of the voice. Alexander was sprawled on a lounger half a foot away, an arm flung behind him casually, watching her, his expression hidden by the fan of his lashes.

Yet there was nothing casual about his gleaming blue eyes, or in the calculating appraisal in them as they traveled over her. With his jacket gone and the neck of his white shirt unbuttoned, which exposed a thoroughly distracting strip of brown flesh, he wasn’t the hardheaded businessman anymore. Instead, a touch of roguish danger simmered around him.

Olivia swallowed. She had run straight to the beach as if the devil himself were after her, the only thought in her mind to flee. Now he had another point against her. The idea of slipping back into the water with the possibility of sinking like a stone held more allure than facing him.

She sat up slowly and scrunched her knees to her chest. Pretending to be brushing off the sand on her legs, she gripped them, waiting for the shaking to subside. Refusing to look at him, she stared straight ahead, the tranquility she had found earlier evaporating like a mist. Her fingers slipped on her legs as he moved closer and came to a standstill near her.

She gave up the fight and turned. His feet were coming into her view. Nothing there that would make her feel even a little better—like a lot of hair on the toes or a couple of unsightly growths. No, instead, they were large brown feet, with evenly spaced toes. “You know what they say about men with large feet, Olivia.” Her friend Amelie’s declaration skated into her head and she grinned.

Not now, Liv. “Of course I’m not naked.” Why did she sound so unsteady? Dusting away the remnants of sand, she stood up, still not meeting his eyes. “I need a shower.”

With a small movement he shifted his body to block hers. His fingers settled on her bare shoulders.

Liv shivered, the hot press of his fingers searing her skin. “Alexander—”

His finger moved to her mouth, effectively silencing her. “You robbed me of the pleasure of ripping that dress off you. At least let me look at what I would have discovered.”

Her tummy took a roll as he took a step back. Look away, Liv. Through sheer willpower she resisted the temptation to meet his gaze. Only that was worse. With her eyes closed every other sense became hyperaware. Her ears tuned in to the sound of his fractured breathing, her nose was filled with the scent of sea and male arousal, and her skin tingled as though he’d run his hands all over her.

Alex couldn’t take his eyes off her body. Heat surged through him, tautening his lower belly. His blood was flowing hotter and faster, making a beeline to regions south. He hadn’t asked the question to be censorious. He had been genuinely curious. She had surfaced out of the water and had lain there, the whoosh of her uneven breathing puncturing the silence all around. Her alabaster skin shimmered in the moonlight. The dip of her back and the curve of her butt sent a swift kick of lust to his groin.

Now he understood. She wore nude-colored underwear. At this close distance it was quite modest, compared to the lacy underwear flaunted in every fashion magazine. But then, those lacy, gossamer bras and thongs left nothing to the man’s imagination.

She looked earthily sexy. Her wild brown hair was tinted with shades of gold. Her breasts rose and fell with her shallow breathing. The sight of her taut nipples behind the thin fabric made his throat dry up. The dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, her toned legs—every inch of her body was an invitation of pleasure, would drive even the most sensible man to distraction.

Color suffused her cheeks at his continued scrutiny. “You’re staring at me.”

He hadn’t meant to. He didn’t want to. But she had a body made for sex. Was that why men lost their minds around her? Weak men, who cracked at the first sign of temptation and then it was just a downward spiral. Like his father. The passing thought about his father was enough to cool his desire—more effective than an electric shock.

He took a step back, his senses still reeling. “You’re an awful swimmer.”

Her chin lifted. An imperceptible movement both defiant and hurt.

“If you had drowned no one would even have heard you.”

Olivia felt heat creeping up her cheeks. The strong tide had been the reason she had finally waded out. She couldn’t admit that to him, though. Summoning every ounce of her meager willpower, she stayed still. Her fingers twitched for action. Either to push him off or sink her fingers into his tousled hair. “I didn’t drown.”

A smile spread from his mouth, tugging one corner of it upward, creating a delicious dimple. Sinuous heat slithered through her, pooling toward her groin.

His fingers moved to her nape and pressed gently. “I’m glad.”

He was pure sex on legs when he smiled like that, and he knew the power he wielded. But that didn’t stop the prickle of sensation that crept up along her skin. His contempt she could handle. His seduction, not so much. She took a step back, away from the warm invitation of all that male heat.

He tugged at her wrist, leaving her no choice but to turn around. “Where are you going?”

She folded her arms against her chest, preparing to do her best to sound like her twin. Doubly hard when her heart was galloping in her chest. All she needed was to get away from here—now. Then she would lock herself up until morning. Not that she was scared of him. It was her own aching need, her utter lack of control that she didn’t trust. “I would like to sleep alone tonight.” She fluttered her eyelashes, praying the man had a decent side. “Please, Alex.”

“Fine.”

The weight lifted from her shoulders. Before she could think of a response, he pulled her down with him, until they were both sitting down, shoulder to shoulder.

“Kiss me.”

Olivia couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “But...”

He raised a brow, a mocking smile curving his sexy mouth. “One kiss. You can’t deny your husband that.”

What woman refused to kiss her husband on her wedding night? But kissing him was tantamount to...

He frowned, his thumb moving over his lush lower lip. It was a deviation in the stark landscape of his face. “You’ve been acting strange all evening. I’m beginning to wonder—”

She moved toward him, striving hard to ignore the low thrum of anticipation building up inside her. She had no right to kiss the man. Kim had better have a damn good explanation for this charade. Or Alexander would... She didn’t even want to contemplate his reaction when he discovered the truth. Goose bumps rose up on her skin, dulling the edge of her desire.

His hands folded across his chest. His gaze devoured her. He was leaving it all to her. With her hands on his forearms she anchored herself and bent forward, making sure no other parts of their bodies touched.

Her eyes flew shut the moment she felt his breath upon her mouth. Tilting her head to the side, she touched her lips to the corner of his mouth, aiming for minimal contact. Every good intention vanished like a puff of smoke as the taste and feel of him singed her. Primal need spiraled through her, leaving a trail of agony in its wake. A groan she couldn’t control escaped her. Her hands locked on his chest between them. Their legs were in a tangle. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the wild scent of his arousal, fighting to control her own.

“Say yes,” he rasped near her ear.

Oh, how she wanted to find his mouth again with hers, to run her hands all over his corded strength. Swift on the sinful thought’s heels guilt shot through her, paralyzing every nerve ending, flushing her with shame from within. Contrary to the fact that the media frequently portrayed her as a poster child for scandal, there was a line Olivia wouldn’t cross.

Not again.

She pushed him back with a grunt, frustration and disgust vying within her. “No.” She pressed her fingertips into her arms, finding a perverse satisfaction in her painful grip. Trying to regulate her breathing, she offered him a smile. “I mean, not tonight. I’m really tired.”

He shot her a hard look, coating the very air between them with a chilly frost. “You taste like scotch and the ocean. And yet Kim can’t stand even the smell of alcohol.”

She twisted around so quickly that her head spun. His mouth was set into an unforgiving line and his gaze lanced her, the force of his contempt a live wire between them. He knew it was her.

She launched at him, outrage giving her much-needed momentum. “You know.” His arms between them warded off her blows with little effort. She didn’t care. “You know and you still forced me to kiss you. You bastard.”

Her words fell off him like waves pushing at the sand. His face hard as granite, he grabbed her wrists. “I wanted to see how far you would go.” His mouth tightened and his words were a quiet, menacing whisper. “Color me surprised to discover even Olivia Stanton has some morals.”

She didn’t think. She fisted her hand for a punch. Only his right hand gripped her wrist, his movements quick and agile. She struggled, remembering how hard she had found it to pull herself back from the temptation of his body. And the arrogant jerk had been testing her!

If she hadn’t pulled back when she had...if she hadn’t found that last ounce of sanity...to think how low she would have fallen....

A sob built inside her. His hands held hers down at either side. He could have easily twisted her arm behind her and hurt her. She wouldn’t have blamed him. He didn’t. A moan escaped her as he flipped her easily, sandwiching her facedown between the sand and his hard body.

Hating her complete loss of restraint, she wiggled to be free. The silky sand shifted and glided beneath her until his hard body slipped and covered hers in a sinuous whisper that made her mouth dry. His body slammed into her from behind with just enough force to still her.

“Stop it, Olivia.”

His breath sounded choppy and disjointed as he raised himself away from her. But it was too late. The incredible caress of his erection against her backside was etched on her body forever.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He already had. Olivia breathed in and out, sand flying into her mouth, hating the gnawing sensation in her stomach. Why would Alexander King’s opinion have the power to hurt her? She gave that power to no man, not anymore—not since she’d realized she was only asking for more heartache.

She raised her head and turned around. She could do nothing about the trembling in her stomach, but she filled her words with scorn. “I kissed you because I was pretending to be Kim. And, yes, for some unfathomable reason I’m attracted to you. But the whole world knows I’ve the worst taste in men. What’s your excuse?”

* * *

He didn’t have one.

Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he had been so aroused, felt so out of tune with his own body. He usually had no problem controlling his needs as it suited him. Yet in that moment he’d had to summon the last ounce of his self-discipline to stay still. Adrenaline pumped through him, begging for release. He sucked a breath in and counted to ten. His muscles burned. He clenched his teeth.

He loosened his grip on her wrists. Her skin was smooth against his fingerpads. Greedily he drank in the luscious temptation she presented. His thighs shook with the need to lean back into her so that he could feel the inviting cradle of her butt against his erection. Desire rattled through him. He moved his fingers up her arm toward the delicate arch of her neck. She gasped. He jerked back as though burned.

What the hell was he doing? He needed to find out where Kim was, get on a flight to Paris... Instead, he...

He moved to his knees and pulled himself away from her, his mind whirring. “What you provoke in me is a physical reaction—purely animalistic. Temporary insanity fueled by six months of abstinence. There’s nothing more I despise in the world than a man or a woman who can’t control those impulses.”

As though the fight had left her, she sagged into the ground, careful to move her body away from his. “Please, Alexander. Let me go.”

Shifting back, he stared at her, unwilling to touch her even to pull her up.

She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, her movements jumpy, her willowy body trembling. His gaze fell to the impressions on her wrists. He sank back to his knees with a silent thud, feeling an invisible punch to his gut. Dear God, he had done that to her. Even in the silver light of the moon there was no mistaking the light red marks on her wrists.

Whatever she had done, however much she had provoked him, there was no excuse. Everything he hated within himself, everything he kept tightly bound, had snapped free in a matter of seconds. Shame spiraled through him, cooling his desire, drenching him in a cold sweat—a familiar sick feeling that greeted him like an old friend.

To use brute strength to control...it was the lowest he could sink to.

He pulled her hands into his and cursed when she pulled back like a frightened cat. “We should run some cold water on your wrists.”

She stood up, dusting away the sand from her body, her gaze pointedly looking away from him. “I’ve had worse. This is nothing.”

He hated the clawing need to explain that he wasn’t that man. But he wouldn’t be able to look at himself if he didn’t. “You probably don’t expect better from the men in your life.” He ignored her gasp. “I expect better of myself.” He tilted his head, seeking again the proof of his boorish behavior. “I apologize, Olivia. Nothing justifies my behavior.”

Her gaze studied him, disbelief pouring out of her stiff shoulders. “I provoked you. I—”

He shook his head. “That’s the pathetic excuse of a weak man.”

She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off.

Stepping back from her, he fisted his hands by his side. “Get dressed. I’ll see you inside.” His words were clipped, his anger at himself coating his throat. “And don’t even think of leaving.”

CHAPTER THREE

IF ALEXANDER HAD assumed that he would be less distracted with her dressed, he was wrong. Just as he stepped into the huge open-plan kitchen Olivia entered through the high archway, covered in his white robe, the one Kim had borrowed from him two days ago, her honey-gold hair gleaming wet, her skin glowing pink.

He pulled his gaze away from the vee of the robe and poured himself a drink from the bar. The sounds of her puttering around the kitchen beat a tattoo in his head. His patience running dangerously thin, he guzzled down his scotch. The erotic reminder of how it had tasted on her was forever imprinted on his mouth.

“I’m waiting, Olivia.”

She slammed the door on the state-of-art steel refrigerator and leaned against it. “Is there any chance of finding food in this godforsaken mansion? Or do you expect me to die of hunger?”

He pushed a chair back and sat down, stretched his legs. A slow ache was beginning to build behind his left eye. “Where’s Kim?”

She glared at him and started digging around in the numerous cabinets. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t play games with me.” He raked a hand through his hair. This morning his life had been mapped out perfectly. He’d been about to marry a woman who was sensible, undemanding—someone who aroused nothing in him except affection and respect, someone who would stand by his side as he gave his sister the life she deserved. Instead, he had slipped the diamond ring on the finger of her antithesis.

“I tend to rebel when threatened—if you don’t already know.” She poked her head out of the drawer she had been searching and ran a hand through her hair. “Add the fact that my stomach is eating itself, I’m very dangerous right now.”

He crossed to her in a minute and cornered her, more annoyed by her presence than Kim’s absence. An irrational reaction if ever he’d had one. “Don’t mistake my patience to be a failing, Olivia.” When she tried to turn away, he shifted his body to block her. The scent of her skin surrounded him, assaulting him with images of her in the shower. “Kim was fine this morning. Until you showed up. It’s obvious that she’s somewhere cleaning up your mess again.”

Her mouth opened in protest. She swallowed. The column of her neck drew his gaze. Her hands swept over her stomach. She was nervous and distressed. Finally he was going to get some answers.

“I’m truly hungry, Alexander,” she said, her mouth a beguiling pout. “I missed lunch and then ate hardly a morsel at the reception. Can’t you order your famous French chef to whip up something? Preferably something substantial.”

He fisted his hands, digging deep inside himself for the last scrap of patience. The nerves in his temple stretched taut, as if they would snap at any minute. He pointed her toward the phone on the wall.

With a cheer, she plucked it from the wall and rattled away in French, ordering enough food to feed an army.

He threw her cell phone onto the glass table in between them, along with the giant metallic silver handbag he’d picked up from Kim’s suite. “Call her.”

Her eyebrows shot into to her hairline, her molten gaze looking daggers at him. “You went through my things?”

“You stood next to me and pledged to be my wife.” He smiled, despite the fact that the situation was slipping out of his control. “Life’s a crapshoot.”

She tucked the phone into her bag, a frown on her face. “Didn’t you see the calls I’ve been making every fifteen minutes? She’s not picking up.”

“Then we’ll go find her. Tell me where she is.”

For the first time this evening she looked anxious. “I don’t know. I think she wanted to postpone the wedding but didn’t know how to tell you.”

She folded her hands and leaned against the gleaming marble counter, a little frown furrowing her brow. He followed her glance to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading to the beach and the silence he had always cherished was suffused with tension.

“I don’t think she left the island. She said she would be back by now.”

“You think this a joke?” He hated the spiraling tension he could feel in himself. He needed to get control of this situation, and if that meant dealing with someone who didn’t have a responsible bone in her body, so be it. “Why would Kim walk out at the last minute if it wasn’t to deal with whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time?”

Olivia glared at him. “Do you think anything in the world would tempt me to spend time with you other than for my sister? Whether you believe me or not, I did it because Kim asked me to. Now, if you’re done blaming me for helping you, I would like to get out of here.”

“You can’t leave.” His face settled into a mocking smile. “Even if that sounds very unappreciative of me after all your help.”

Sarcastic jerk. “Listen, Alexander. All Kim said was that she couldn’t marry you today. God knows why.”

Olivia felt a tightness around her chest. Her sister hadn’t confided in her. Kim had always been the rock between the two of them. It didn’t bode well that she’d had to leave on the day of her own wedding. That was just not...Kim. Fear for her safety began a rapid tattoo inside Olivia’s head. Where was she?

“But she still wants you. I mean, she persuaded me into this deception precisely because she didn’t want to lose you—as she put it.”

He didn’t bat an eyelid. “If there had been a problem Kim would have come to me—not gone through some elaborate deception and roped you in, of all people.”

Meaning he had a special dose of contempt reserved just for her? She let his comment pass by, even though his prejudice pricked her. She was used to it now. She was, truly. Yet it still shocked her that people judged her based on her history before spending even an hour with her.

“So, if she had come to you and said that she couldn’t marry you tonight it would have been okay? Because she said you would hate even a hint of scandal.” She should stop there, the oh-so-small sensible part of her warned her. But she had left that part behind years ago. “Not that it really is scandalous to postpone a wedding.”

“You slapped my friend at my engagement party and made a spectacle of yourself. A man with whom you broke a business contract after he had been decent enough to hire you.”

His lush lower lip tapered into a stiff line, hardness entering his blue gaze, and she braced herself.

“Even the word broke is too professional for your conduct, because you simply upped and left one day, didn’t you? Nothing is scandalous enough for you, Olivia.”

It wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before. But his scornful words lanced through her and found a vulnerable spot, leaving her shaken to the core.

“Assuming you’re telling the truth, if Kim had talked to me I would have been married to her—instead of arguing about what constitutes a scandal with you.”

Olivia took a deep breath, trying hard to suppress the fury rising through her. This wasn’t her fight. She couldn’t and she didn’t care what he thought of her. She had done what her sister had asked her to do. Still, his arrogant assumption that Kim would have gone through with the wedding rankled. Didn’t he care about Kim’s feelings?

Obviously he didn’t. Appearances were everything to Alexander King. Even the knowledge that she was in his life for no more than a day couldn’t dispel his distaste. And her twin was planning to spend her life with him. She couldn’t let him get to her.

“But she didn’t talk to you. My sister asked me for help and I stepped in. And I look forward to the moment when you know the truth and will grovel at my feet for forgiveness.”

Hell would freeze over before Alexander King groveled at her feet. She knew that. But a girl needed her wild fantasies to keep going. It was right up there with making out with Johnny Depp and being able to survive on strawberry martinis. It was better that he’d found her out. She didn’t have to pretend to be Kim anymore and could go back to her own life. Far away from make-one-mistake-and-I’ll-cut-you-out Alexander King.

“So really there’s no reason for you and me to stick it out here.”

She would have been less shaken by a display of temper in response. But the absolute silence that met her declaration made the hairs on her neck stand up. His broad shoulders blocked everything else. The hint of stubble on his jaw gave him a roguish look. The folded cuffs of his white shirt displayed strong forearms. Her throat dry, she stared back, waiting.

She steeled herself for some scathing remark, but could do nothing about the awareness spreading through her limbs as he loomed over her. He smelled like dark chocolate wrapped in decadent male arousal. If she could bottle the scent she’d be able to sell it without writing a slogan for it. One whiff and women of all ages would be falling over themselves for it.

His finger flicked the tip of her nose, his blue gaze glittering with dark amusement. “You’re not suggesting I go on our honeymoon by myself, are you?”

Her smile faltered on her lips, her gut dropping through an endless fall. “You can’t be serious,” she murmured. His posture screamed unyielding determination, confirming her worst fear. “There’s no need. Kim will be back.”

“Then you better start hoping she’s here tomorrow morning.”

She gripped the counter behind her. “I can’t go anywhere with you. We hate each other, remember?”

He laughed, the rippling sound of it surrounding her in overwhelming waves. “Yes, but not as much as I hate being front-page fodder for trashy tabloids.”

“This isn’t funny.” She moved away from the intoxicating scent of the dratted man and opened the calendar on her phone. “I have to do a pitch for our agency in two weeks. I can’t miss it.”

“Still playing at being the hardworking career woman?” His gaze dropped to the sketch pad peeping out of her handbag and dismissed it the next second. “Give it up, Olivia. You don’t have it in you.”

Her breath whooshed out of her, his words dealing a nasty punch to her middle. Before the phone slipped from her shaky fingers she threw it back into her bag. The pitch to LifeStyle Inc. was the only thing that could build her career—her only opportunity to silence corrosive comments like his. She couldn’t miss it. She pushed out the fury scratching at her throat and steadied herself. “It’s your honeymoon, Alexander. No one will know you’re by yourself unless you advertise it.”

His fingers gripped her arm and turned her around. His gaze was frantic in its search of hers. “You truly live in your own world, don’t you?” Bitterness laced his every word. “The press hounds me wherever I go, whatever I do, and I refuse to throw even a morsel of scandal their way. If you’re not going to tell me the truth, you’re damn well going to stick with me until Kim’s back.”

Unable to control the rising hysteria inside her, Olivia pushed him back with force, every muscle in her flexing with the need to escape. This day couldn’t get worse. Was the universe finally catching up with her in the form of this infuriating man?

“Fine. I’ll go with you. But I have to return to New York in two weeks. If you try to stop me. If you....” She blew at a lock of hair that fell on her forehead, fighting the urge to pummel him. “Remember, nothing is scandalous enough for me—and I have nothing to lose.”

“Not even your sister’s happiness?”

“I’m seriously beginning to doubt if that lies with you.” She ran her fingers over her forehead, her head throbbing with increased pressure. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. Only stared at her searchingly, his blue gaze inscrutable. And Olivia knew she had been wrong earlier. The day had just gotten much worse—kick-you-while-you’re-down worse.

His gaze glittered with unspoken warnings. His mouth was an uncompromising line. “Paris.”

* * *

Only Olivia Stanton could look like a deer caught in headlights at the mention of Paris.

Alexander stood with his hands folded, his mind whirring, waiting for his staff to finish laying out food on the table. The delicious aromas assailed his nostrils. But even Pierre’s culinary talent couldn’t entice his hunger tonight. At least not for food.

He should have been in his bed tonight with Kim, lost to the world. Respecting her wishes to take it slow, he hadn’t pushed her—which meant he hadn’t had sex in six months. Ironic that his libido ran rampant tonight for a woman he didn’t even like. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers and turned his head this way and that, trying to loosen the stiffness in his neck muscles.

He turned around as his staff left.

Her face lit up like a child’s on Christmas, Olivia was eying the fragrant dishes on the table. Despite himself, he smiled. “I thought you would be too upset to eat?”

Settling down at the dark oak table, she shrugged. “That’s your problem.”

She bit into a sandwich, slid a little lower in her chair, her head thrown back, and moaned, highlighting the delicate jawline, the graceful arch of her neck. He cursed, feeling too warm in his clothes.

“Like everyone else on the planet, you assume you know me. You don’t. For the record, I am upset. But it doesn’t mean I’ll starve myself.”

She took a sip of wine and then got up and sauntered over to the intercom again. He watched in fascination as she thanked Pierre in perfect French, a teasing smile coloring her words. She’d probably won over Pierre for life.

Alex moved toward the table, picked up a French fry and popped it into his mouth. He almost missed the look she threw over her shoulder at him. Almost. She was laughing, lounging casually against the wall. But he didn’t mistake it for anything other than the show it was.

He couldn’t trust Olivia as far as he could throw her delectable body. She wasn’t going to mutely follow orders. He knew it as surely as the tightness he felt in his muscles as she licked her lips and laughed.

He pulled his cell phone out and made a quick call to his head of security, issuing instructions for him to locate Kim. He looked into the darkness, past the French windows, frustration holding him immobile in its grip. With everything he had confided in her Kim should have known better than to leave him with her reckless twin—known there was no way he could travel to Paris without his wife.

He searched through the cabinets and heaped coffee into the state-of-art coffeemaker—the only appliance in the otherwise bare kitchen.

It was going to be a long night. Just not the pleasurable one he’d expected.

He inclined his head when Olivia wished him goodnight and sauntered out of the kitchen.

Until Kim was back he needed the blasted woman—whether he liked it or not.

* * *

Olivia tiptoed through the bedroom in the darkness, wary of switching on even the bedside lamp. She pulled on the black cargo-style capris she had left at the foot of the bed last night. The soft material whispered against her skin, the sound of it raising every nerve ending in her to attention in the pitch black of pre-dawn. A mint-green sleeveless top with built-in bra, a white sweatshirt finished her outfit and she pulled on sneakers.

Sliding her laptop and notepad into her handbag, she took one last look around the bedroom. She eyed the suitcase she was leaving behind. Dragging it with her through the silent mansion wasn’t an option. Nothing in there that she couldn’t replace. She never wanted to lay eyes on that damned designer gown again, anyway. Her stomach growled in hunger. After hearing Alexander’s plans for her last night, the delicious food had tasted like sawdust. But she had eaten it, anyway, refusing to let on how much his announcement had derailed her.

Her heart thudding, she opened the door and stepped into the dimly lighted corridor. A feeling of déjà vu descended on her. How many times had she snuck through her high-security private school when she had been a teenager? It hadn’t ended well even a single time.

Within minutes she’d entered the main foyer, with the gleaming marble floors that led to several bedrooms. Ceiling lights here and there illuminated her path, drawing attention to the elegant angles of the mansion, shedding light on the priceless art pieces everywhere she looked.

Any other time she would have enjoyed the beauty of this house surrounded by lush gardens and the private beach. Her studio apartment, the size of a walk-in closet, in a not-so-good neighborhood of Manhattan, was hardly conducive to creativity. But this mansion, with its sky-high ceilings taking advantage of natural light during the day, was the perfect location to relax, to let the ideas fighting for life inside her head breathe onto paper.

Except for the pervading presence of the man who owned the mansion, who had no problem rearranging her life to suit his plans.

No. She couldn’t tolerate another hour in his presence, much less travel with him to Paris, of all places. Just thinking of the city brought a chill to her skin, memories cloying their way to the surface.

Reaching the entrance, she plucked the keys to a Range Rover she had seen in the courtyard from the key-holder. All she needed was to get to the airport, which was fifty miles away, and then get on a flight out of the island. She didn’t much care where she went as long as she got out of here in the next couple of hours. The airline ticket was going to max out her credit card, but it was a price she was willing to pay.

She stepped into the wide courtyard, intent on locating the vehicle—and ran headlong into a solid, warm body. Her breath whooshed out of her at the impact, her insides rearranging themselves into jelly.

Alexander.

His hands on her arms anchored her. A dark navy sweater hugged the lean breadth of his chest, and black khakis completed his casual look. His blue, blue eyes shone with razor-edged amusement and he was very much awake. He looked dangerously yummy, and the assault of his clean, fresh scent was too much for her sleep-deprived body.

“Going somewhere, Olivia?”

His smooth words sent prickles of alarm running down her arms. Before she could answer he turned her around and marched her back through the foyer as though she were a petulant teenager.

While he barked orders into his cellphone—no doubt ordering his minions to bar the gates against her—she pulled her arm from his hold and dragged her heels. His gaze intent on her, he stood with his hands folded across his chest, his feet apart. She would have preferred it if he’d yelled at her.

His silence, however, eroded the edge of her anger, her resentment, and the need to explain was a pressing compulsion in her head. He provoked the most unusual responses in her. “I can’t go with you. Believe me, it’s better if you wait here for Kim rather than drag me to Paris.”

The frost of his anger didn’t thaw even a little. “Follow me,” he said, and walked away.

Staring at his retreating back, she stood rooted to the spot, feeling like a dog being summoned by its master. Yet did she have a choice?

She drew the line at running after him like a supplicant. She followed him with unhurried steps and found herself on the marble-tiled terrace. Beautiful solar lights placed at strategic points illuminated the vast grounds, and the rising sun was casting a golden glow over the grounds. Sprawling patches of green stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with tall palm trees and occasional wildlife. Behind the mansion lay the ocean, and in front of them a picturesque lawn complete with a huge pool. For a minute the pristine beauty surrounding her captured her attention, and her elemental need to escape was buried under her awe.

It was stunning and peaceful. The mansion was a natural extension to the backdrop of the island. Except for the cluster of vans and tents parked outside the electronically controlled estate gates. She automatically counted them, finding fourteen vans in all. Something that very much looked like a long-range telescope was pointed at the terrace even now, and a babble of excitement surrounded it.

She instinctively ducked behind Alexander’s solid body, disbelief shredding the peace she had felt mere minutes ago. “Are those...?” She couldn’t even finish the sentence for the terror coating her throat.

“Reporters? Yes.”

Fear wrapped its tentacles round and round her throat, cutting off her breath, dragging her into a ghastly flashback. Images she didn’t want to see—of her tear-stricken face plastered across the newspapers. Sounds she didn’t want to hear—of the rabble with microphones and cameras stuck in her face as her father hauled her across the courtyard of his house. And the uproarious glee of the bloodthirsty vultures when he had literally thrown her onto the street, proudly disowning her. They flooded her, sweeping her along on a tide of nightmare. Sweat dribbled down her spine and she moved closer to Alexander. She didn’t care that she was clinging to him. She clutched the soft fabric of his sweater with her fingers, the warmth from his body penetrating the chill.

His hand snaked out around her, pulling her closer, until her chest flushed against his. The musky scent of his aftershave filled her nostrils. Even stricken with panic, her senses sighed.

“It will take them two minutes to figure out you’re alone, five to corner you, even if you take my Range Rover, and ten minutes to realize you’re the notorious Olivia Stanton. Even if you reach the airport unscathed without the help of my security force—which is a big if—this will cause a renewed interest in you, which means they’ll dig up every piece of dirt they can on you, which I’m told is a lot.”

Olivia risked another peek at the cluster and swallowed. No way was she going to step amid them. Not unless she had Alexander’s army of high-tech security men in front of her and behind her. She licked her dry lips and set her mouth into a semblance of plea. “And the chances of you lending me your security guys so that I can reach the airport unscathed...?”

“Zero.”

Bending his head, he kissed her temple, his warm mouth a searing brand against her sensitized skin. She struggled—purely a reflex. Only he pulled her closer. She opened her mouth to demand that he release her. But the words never formed. His hands crept into her hair and pulled her head back. His mouth hovered a few inches from hers. Her toes curled inside her sneakers. Every nerve ending inside her was crying for his touch even as another part of her screeched a warning. This is wrong.

Held still by his unrelenting grip, she stared at him. And felt a strange satisfaction flow inside. No, she wasn’t going to kiss him. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t revel in the fact that he was just as susceptible to the treacherous desire between them. It was in the darkening of his crystal-blue eyes, in the thundering beat of his heart, in the sudden gentling of his fingers in her hair.

Yet Alexander did nothing without thought. Every move was a calculation in the big scheme of his perfect life. She was even more of an idiot if she thought he was as without control as she. She let her body go slack, willing movement into her trembling muscles. “You’re pretending for them,” she said, the truth a cold blanket over her heated skin.

His thumb traced a path over her cheek. “That should keep them happy for at least a day.”

The fact that she was right was no comfort. “How did you know I was going to leave?”

“You’re nothing if not predictable. And, just so we’re clear, you pull that stunt again and I’ll throw you to the wolves myself.”

She averted her gaze from the hungry press, the horror of what she had been about to walk into sending a shiver down her spine. “For how long?”

His feet on the steps, he turned around. “Do you argue just for the heck of it? All I’m asking you to do is to spend a few days in the lap of luxury. Is that so hard?”

“If it means spending another minute with you—yes.”

“You’re at least unique in that,” he threw at her arrogantly. “You have no choice until Kim’s back. Then you could disappear to the North Pole for all I care.”

His arrogant dismissal, the personal hit, let loose a fury in her. She hated the media, too, not hated, she feared them. Because they never let the world forget, never let her move on from her horrible mistake. Everything she had done since then, every choice of hers had already been forecast to doom, because her template was already preset to fail. And the moron that she was, she always delivered right into their hands. But it didn’t mean she was going to stop trying, didn’t mean she was going to rearrange her life to avoid them. “You’re letting them control your actions, control your life.”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t push it, Olivia.”

His dark warning only incensed her more. “This is about your pride, your image, isn’t it? You can’t be seen as the man who married the wrong woman, the less-than-perfect twin. God forbid that the world find out that you’re prone to mistakes just like the rest of us normal mortals.”

A smile, sharper than cut glass, curved his mouth as he pulled her toward him, two hundred pounds of intensity scorching her. “I’ve spent every waking moment of my life as a child haunted by the press. At seven, when my parents left me behind at a movie screening, at seventeen, when I was part of a criminal investigation. My childhood was like one of those bizarre reality shows based on Hollywood where nothing is sacred, nothing is left alone. Only it was my life that everybody was watching. I’ve been dragged through courts, have been studied like I was an exhibit at a zoo, have had stories written about me since I could barely talk. Enough fodder to last the press a lifetime. I don’t intend to give them any more.”

His face set into unyielding granite, he stood looking down on her. His words sounded as though they were coming from a dark place that warred with the cool exterior he presented to the world. His blue gaze glittered with pain. It robbed her of speech, questions she wanted to ask submerged beneath the overwhelming need to comfort him. “I walked away from that, made a different life for myself. But you know what? The shadow of it is never far behind. Do you know what that feels like? To have your every decision, every action studied, dissected under a microscope for even the smallest of mistakes, to know that the whole world, including your own damn parents, is waiting for you to fall.”

She laughed, her bitterness spilling over into that sound. “Obviously, you don’t know everything about me.”

“I do. But you bring it on yourself with your reckless, indiscriminate behavior.”

She flinched, each word a sharp twist in her side.

A hint of softness entered his eyes, and he moved closer to her. As though he regretted his remark. Yet whatever she had imagined, it was gone in a fleeting second. A mirage.

What was she doing? She was seeing things she wanted to see in him, letting her mind pull her down into an alternate reality. For some reason, she wanted to find a chink in him, something that would level the field between them. She was instantly at a disadvantage with anyone she met, her past a sword hanging over her head. And she didn’t care, or at least she had painstakingly trained herself to not care. But with Alexander, she realized with a sinking sensation, all bets were off.

“Why do we have to go anywhere?” she said, hating the note of anxiety in her voice. She grabbed his wrists, ready to beg. She didn’t know which haunted her more. The prospect of going back to Paris, or the looming pretense that she was his wife. Only a few hours in his company and she already felt as if she was coming apart at the seams, her armor already cracking. At least, here in his vast mansion, she needn’t see the man unless absolutely necessary. “Why can’t we just stay here until she’s back and then you two can jet off to wherever you want?”

It was the hint of pleading in Olivia’s words that hauled Alexander out of his own private hell. Until now, she had been all fire and lightning, like a Caribbean thunderstorm. Yet now, with her lush mouth pinched, she seemed anything but.

Reluctant concern sliced through him. No one wanted to re-visit their scene of crime. He understood that better than anyone. But he didn’t have a choice, either. For more than ten years, he had kept himself out of the trash rags, taken care of his sister, and forged a different life. He didn’t intend to let anyone wreck his life or his sister’s, not the press, not his mother. “Because I have obligations, Olivia, people who can’t wait to see me in Paris with my loving wife in tow.

“If word leaks out that you stood next to me instead of Kim at the ceremony, we’ll become exclusive features on every damn channel, on every social media site. Not only will they hound me, but they will make your sister’s life and yours, a living hell. So, if I have to endure your company until I can do damage control, I’ll do it. And seeing the countless number of times your sister has saved your delectable ass, I would think you can bear my company a few more days, for her.”

CHAPTER FOUR

NOTHING WAS WORKING.

Olivia blew at the stubborn lock of hair that kept falling into her eyes, and pulled her hair into a high ponytail with a vicious tug. She drew another picture on her notepad, her pencil flying on the paper and began to think of words for the pitch. The launch of Lifestyle Inc.’s sportswear geared toward everyday life was going to be one of the biggest launches of next fall. If she could bag the advertising contract for their agency, her career would finally be on the right track.

Her initial pitch to use social media for the ad campaign was what had resulted in their agency being shortlisted. Yet all the ideas that had been floating around her head seemed very insubstantial when she put them to paper. With a grunt, she tore off the pages she had so far and scrunched them up in her hands.

She knew in her bones that it was this place, this city they were in. The minute they had stepped off Alexander’s private jet, it felt as though the iron lid she kept over her memories had been pried open by the warm summer breeze. She had just stood there, looking around her, transported back in time, the scents and sounds around her assaulting her. She had taken a breath of relief, when upon arriving at his penthouse, he had excused himself. She had grabbed her notepad and sketches and retreated to the spare bedroom. She had been hiding since they’d arrived last night and all morning, venturing only into the kitchen for sustenance.

But there was no escape inside her own mind. Jacques’s face kept pushing itself into her thoughts as though she had kissed him, begged him to not leave her yesterday instead of six years ago. Sweat beaded on her brow, her stomach a twisting void.

She had done everything in her power to keep him, to make Jacques love her, yet he had left her, trampled her heart into so many pieces. The same question she hadn’t been able to answer that night or ever since haunted her waking thoughts now. She slapped her hands on her cheeks and shook her head, groaning, as though she could hold the devastating thought at bay.

But all her defenses crumbled like cardboard paper as it wound its way into her head.

Whatever she did, however much she tried, there were some things she couldn’t change about herself. She couldn’t...

No. She couldn’t do this to herself. She cursed and swiped the tears pooling in her eyes. She had cried enough tears to last her a lifetime.

Scrolling through her BlackBerry, she read the text she had received from Kim early morning for the hundredth time. I’m okay. Can’t make it back yet. Am so sorry.

The short message didn’t tell Liv anything. The fleeting hope that she could get out of here soon died with it. She threw her bedroom door open and walked into the living room, refusing to indulge in miserable speculations that she already knew the answer to.

Alexander nodded at her from the couch, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He had been perversely silent all through the flight yesterday and even after they’d landed. Almost as if he knew how close to the surface her emotions were teetering. One wrong word from him and she would have clocked him. But of course, he hadn’t given her that satisfaction. Instead, he had been a perfect gentleman all day.

She meant to ignore him but her gaze inevitably drifted down his body as he rose from the couch. Tight black jeans hugged his powerful thighs and dear God, the man had a taut behind she could ogle for hours. His gray V-necked tee stretched across the muscular contours of his chest, the short sleeves revealing strong forearms.

Heat crept up her neck as he neared her in a quick movement, the awareness of her perusal shining in his eyes. Her skin felt too tight on her body. He tilted his head sideways and studied her. “Are you approachable now?”

She shrugged and turned, glad that he hadn’t mentioned her checking him out. The shards of grief that had dulled her mind into numbness mere seconds ago dissolved away.

Forbidden lust—1, gut wrenching grief—0.

Turning away from the captivating sight of him, she walked around the hall. Cream marble floors gleamed under her feet enhanced by white walls. Simple, sleek, red furniture dotted around the living room punctured the austerity of the pristine white. Understated luxury yet tasteful at the same time with a hint of warmth that had been missing in the island mansion.

The living room led into a vast balcony, offering breathtaking views of the Seine and the Eiffel Tower. A luxury private jet and a penthouse in the heart of Paris with such beautiful views, she couldn’t help be impressed despite her dark mood. She traced the concrete railing with her fingers, feeling uncharacteristically peeved.

Alexander King might have turned his back on his A-list Hollywood star parents when he was only seventeen, but the fact that he was filthy rich in his own right incensed her further. Why couldn’t he have been an abject failure like her?

And nothing she had seen so far indicated that he flaunted his wealth, unlike her father. No gold-edged trimmings in sight, no false imperiousness around his staff. On the contrary, his staff seemed too happy to follow his every command. He didn’t need constant validation of his success. For all she knew, the man had been born with the arrogant confidence he wore like a second skin.

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